


i built you a home in my heart

by paleinthedark



Series: the runaways [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, all of this is strictly platonic, bee tee dubs, i was sad okay???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleinthedark/pseuds/paleinthedark
Summary: Tommy wishes that they could've run away.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: the runaways [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977736
Comments: 4
Kudos: 139





	i built you a home in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO this isn't very good but i had to get this out of my system oh em gee anywasy enjoy

The very moment Tubbo begins talking at the mic, Tommy feels an uneasy uncertainness settle in his stomach like a sinking rock. Tubbo is smiling, the sweet way his voice lilts when he’s excited drawing in the crowd at his feet wonderfully; the men at his side smile, one of total obliviousness and the other of a certain knowing that set’s Tommy’s teeth on edge. 

His arms move like he's a conductor of an orchestra, his posture perfect and his chest puffed out in pride. Brown locks blow in his eyes by a breeze that smells faintly of flowers with his words falling off his tongue like a song so captivating it settles Tommy’s nerves. 

When his speech is done, the crowd doesn’t even get the chance to clap. Jschlatt’s smile grows wider, so wide Tommy can see the glint of his teeth from where he hides. The President chuckles low, deep and dark like the ocean as his head inclines downwards. 

Tubbo glances at him, smile faltering but still there. “What’s wrong Schlatt?” 

The horned man sighs something weary. “No, no.. sorry, I was just thinking about it…”

“A- About what?” The boy’s words pitch in the mic. 

Jschlatt doesn’t answer him. He merely hands his Vice President, Quackity, something the color of bubbly yellow. Bright like lemons. “Help me with something,” The President drawls. His Vice President takes the yellow in his hands with a blindness only a devoted follower would have. 

Tommy hears Wilbur hiss through his teeth like he’s hurt. Glancing to him, Tommy is surprised to see Wilbur on his feet, a hand to his ear where a comm fits snugly. Tubbo’s hand twitches like he wants to move it. 

The crowd is as silent as the dead as they watch Tubbo become encased in a makeshift prison on the stage. Niki is on the edge of her seat, eyes wide and her hands clenched in fear at her sides. Technoblade watches on, the rigidness in his back the only indicator that he’s on guard. 

Tommy tries to set his eyes on Tubbo again, but the fearful tone in his shaking voice is making it hard for him to focus. He gnaws on his lips so hard he tastes iron. 

“Tubbo,” Jschlatt begins, his voice powerful and booming, “I’ll cut to the fucking chase, Tubbo.”

The scorn dripping off his words makes Tommy feel sick to his stomach. Wilbur watches on with eyes hard as steel. 

“Tubbo, I know what you’ve been up to.” The President says simply. Tubbo instantly denies it, but the raw mortification in his voice gives it all away. Tommy’s heart aches for him. “I don’t know if you know this, but treason,” a step forward, forehead nearly touching the bars that keep Tubbo trapped, “isn’t exactly a... _respectable_ thing around here.” 

“I know what you’ve been doing,” Jschlatt spreads his arms, pivots on his foot so that he’s facing his audience, a grin so wide on his face that it looks like it hurts, “it _all_ adds up, _buddy_.” 

Tommy isn’t breathing. He can barely get air into his lungs. The crossbow in his hands clinks together softly like windchimes; Wilbur sets a steady hand on his shoulder. Tommy’s hearing has gone weird, too, he notices. The world is blurry with his panic, but his mentor reels it all in. 

The thanks he doesn’t get to say is forgotten when Jschlatt begins to speak again. 

“Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?” 

“No,” Tubbo squeaks. 

The silence is so loud. It’s so, so loud. 

“Nothing good.” 

Tommy’s resolve breaks a little more. And it almost completely shatters when Jschlatt calls Technoblade to the stage. 

The pig masked man stands up from his seat, Netherite armour shining like obsidian in the cozy lantern lights. So cold, compared to the festival’s outlandish decorations. But, just as Hellish as the way Tommy feels right now. 

Techno’s hooves clack against cobblestone as he walks up to the stage. Jschlatt welcomes him with a nod. 

“Don’t worry,” Wilbur whispers to him, “he doesn’t know Techno’s on our side.” 

Tommy nods, trusting Wilbur and Technoblade to do the right thing. _We’re fine_ , Tommy thinks, watching Jschlatt and Techno converse, _Techno’s on our side._

“If you would be so kind,” Jschlatt says, hands folded behind his back as his eyes rove over Techno’s weapons and armour, shining with enchantments and raw power, “take care of him.”

Techno stills. Tommy shoves his hand over his mouth to stop the shout that would surely spill out. Wilbur is next to him, a hand on his comm as he whispers something like “techno is on our side he won’t hurt you” to Tubbo. Tubbo doesn’t bother being discreet as he brings his hand up to his left ear. His mouth moves but no words come out. Wilbur purses his lips. 

The crowd shifts like the ocean’s tide at Techno’s obvious hesitance as he tries to stall. Weapons being drawn or about to be with hands of war resting on their hilts. Techno has never seemed so small except in this moment, Tommy realizes. 

The crossbow in his hands is slowly lifted, the rocket in it pointed directly at Tubbo. 

“You’re going to kill him,” Jschlatt announces. The crowd rolls like a wave, uncomfortably, Nikki especially as her shaking hands come up to hold her cheeks in dawning horror. Tommy’s ribs feel too big for his skin to keep in. 

“S-Schlatt,” Techno tries, but a scream of “ _DO IT NOW!_ ” shuts him right up. 

“ _Right on this fucking stage!_ ” Jschlatt bellows at Techno, his goat ears pulled far so back in fury that it looks like they’re barely there at all. “And make it _hurt_.” 

The emotions in Tommy build like a crescendo that he feels will never stop. Horror is being engraved into his being like he’s a stone tablet, harsh and clean as a sword’s blade. “Button,” Tommy whispers desperately. The fire and blood in his head won’t stop, the silhouette of Wilbur in it’s gory mess at the center of his mind. 

“Techno,” Niki sobs, huge tears rolling down her cheeks like waterfalls. “Don’t do it.” She begs. She shakes like a leaf, grief pulling her expression into something tight. _Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him,_ her eyes scream. 

And as Techno looks back at Niki, the unsureness in his shoulders making them small, Jschlatt delivers the final blow in the form of words. 

“I would rather rule alone than rule with you,” he spits at Tubbo when the boy tries to talk to him. Tubbo shrinks in on himself instantly. Quackity’s expression falls into something surprised, briefly, before there’s another smile on his face. 

“Schlatt, I think that’s enough, he’s already scared,” The Vice President chuckles, looking at the sixteen-year-old and back at his President. Schlatt casts one glance his way, and Quackity understands. He falls silent and steps back. 

Niki’s quiet “ _Tubbo…_ ” goes unnoticed. 

“Techno,” Jschlat begins again, voice scolding like Techno’s a child. Tubbo opens his mouth, repeating Technoblade over and over again to try and get his attention. The man’s attention is split between the two uncertainly. 

“He won’t do anything, will he?” Tommy asks Willbur, eyes never leaving his best friend. Willbur confirms, but Tommy isn’t sure he believes him. 

“T- Tubbo,” Techno says, his usually monotone voice higher with his panic, the pressure of everyone’s eyes on him too heavy on his consciousness. “Tubbo, I’m sorry.” 

Niki screams like she’s already mourning. 

Tommy’s brows furrow deeper, heart beating so hard against his ribs he’s afraid they’ll break and spill his anguish and desperation into something like a scream. He wants to be down there, Tommy knows deep down, protecting Tubbo. In his place or with a shield to hide him, he doesn’t know, doesn’t care. He just wants his best friend to be safe. 

“I-I’ll make it as painless as possible,” Techno says, stepping forward with his crossbow raised and loaded with a rocket meant to celebrate, not one to kill. His finger twitches over the trigger. “Tubbo, I’m sorry!” 

A quiet voice filters through the comm in Wilbur’s ear. _I thought you said he wouldn’t hurt me?_

Technoblade’s finger presses down, and the rocket is catapulted forward, exploding against Tubbo’s chest in a beautiful shower of red, white, and blue. 

All Tommy can hear is white noise. “What- What?” The fire dissipates, and Tommy can’t see Tubbo in all the confusion and chaos. “Tubbo?” He isn’t there. “Tubbo!” _He isn’t there._

“ _TUBBO!_ ”

* * *

_It’s a beautiful day, really._

The sun is high in the sky, bright and shimmering. The breeze feels like heaven against his skin and the sky is a cloudless, baby blue that’s as calm as a gentle river. Tubbo hums at his side, reminding Tommy of a bumble bee’s buzz. 

Tommy’s world is tinted with rosegold. 

He looks at Tubbo, and his smile is like cream puffs and biscuits. Stupidly sweet. 

Their bench is worn down now, by the weather and their carelessness that teenage boys have. The jukebox bumps with the bass of the music disc they’re listening to, quiet as the day but loud enough for the two friends to enjoy. 

It’s nice. It’s so nice, being here with Tubbo, not separated by the war and by Wilbur and Jschlatt. He wishes it could be like this forever. 

…

...Forever. Like… this. With his best friend in the whole world. Without any war and prosecution. It- it sounds like fiction. Tommy inclines his sleepy head, muddled with so many thoughts and so few ways to express them with words. 

“Right now,” Tommy says suddenly, and Tubbo looks over at him with a drowsy expression and tired eyes, “I mean, we could just run away from here, and we’d never have to-” 

Tubbo brightens visibly with excitement. “We could just- we could- we could start a new life,” he interrupts, giddy. 

Tommy smiles and keeps talking, rubbing a hand over one of his sleepy eyes. “We’d have everything we ever wanted…”

“We’d have everything we’d care about.” Tubbo finishes dreamily, a faraway look in his eyes as he stares over DreamSMP, Manburg glowering in the far distance. Tommy looks, too, Manburg’s torn down walls and withering building planting a seed of doubt in his mind. L’Manburg is their home though, right? Always was. Always will be. 

Tubbo looks to him, inquiring, oblivious to his change of thoughts. “Are you… ( _insinuating we run away?_ ) Do you… ( _want to?_ )”

“No,” Tommy says. Tubbo stills, and doesn’t try to show his disappointment too much. He looks away from Tommy to hide his face. Lucky for him, Tommy is too focused on his own dark thoughts to notice. “No, we have to stay. For L’manburg.” 

Tubbo is quiet. 

“...For L’manburg.” Tubbo repeats softly.

* * *

_Tubbo._

_Tubbo, I’m sorry. We should’ve ran away, we should’ve…_

_We could have had everything we wanted, cared about… we could have had the world, Tubbo, me and you, against it all._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m so sorry Tubbo._

_We should’ve ran away to someplace far greater than here._

* * *

Tommy’s body heaves with his sobs as he cradles his best friend to his chest. His rage has fizzled out, the slash he left on Techno’s arm barely a scratch. Screams ring out still, after Techno’s massacre, phantom wails. The corpses look like they’re sleeping. 

Tubbo looks like he’s sleeping. 

The Festival that Tubbo had decorated looks like it’s sleeping; a funeral that Tubbo had prepared for himself. Everything is painfully quiet. Tommy presses his coat to Tubbo’s chest harder, applying pressure to his best friend’s shattered chest and ribs. His blood seeps through it all. 

He’s not breathing. 

And all Tommy can breathe in is the smell of death. 

Tommy shifts, the snot running down his lips and chin barely a problem with his Tubbo in his arms. His tears blur his eyes so horribly that he can’t even make out his friend’s face clearly. “Oh, Tubbo…” Tommy whispers, turning them towards the setting sun that they always loved to watch together. “The sun’s pretty, isn’t it, Tubbo?” 

Tubbo doesn’t respond, the warmth of his blood a replacement for his body heat. Tommy burns. 

Bloody and full, the setting sun dips lower, a sliver of it only remaining. A blue so dark and deep Tommy feels like he could drown in it blanketing the sky as the moon’s round face appears, her children of light twinkling at her sides. 

The mountains on the skyline strangely remind Tommy of Jschlatt. They reach for the heavens, jagged and jet black in the night, a red hue from the sun painting their points crimson. Like crooked teeth. 

Crooked teeth, in the mouth of a man who was devouring them both. 

Tommy’s hands begin to shake. The blood on them is sticky, now, and he burrows his face into Tubbo’s floppy mop of hair. “I’m so sorry, Tubbo, we should’ve ran away.”

And the grief in Tommy’s chest engulfs him like a blackhole; he collapses against his dead friend, crying so hard his voice is left hoarse in seconds. A best friend’s dead wish another fresh wound in his heart besides many others. 

The moon watches over the two boys, her tides slowing with Father Time’s clock hand to give the blonde one the time he needs. Forever might not even be enough for him. 

“Tubbo,” Tommy whispers, chapped lips against the crown of Tubbo’s head, “let’s run away together, okay?”


End file.
